


All the World's a Stage

by orphan_account



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Spoilers, Dimension Travel, Gen, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Sibling Love, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:24:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3866911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wanda has one brother. She has none. She has an infinite number of them. It's all just a matter of perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the World's a Stage

Wanda has one brother. She has none. She has an infinite number of them.  
  
It's all just a matter of perspective.

 

* * *

  
  
  
In one world, she loses him but not their parents. She walks into this reality a year after his death. His bed still has his sheets on, his school textbooks are open and collecting dust on one side of the desk they used to share.  
  
She doesn't linger.

 

* * *

  
  
“Are you the evil twin of my evil twin?” one Pietro asks, squinting at her dubiously.  
  
He's American in this world, and he was born with his powers—they both were.  
  
Weird accent or not, he looks just the right age to be _her_ Pietro, and she can't help but fling herself into his arms, sobbing desperately.  
  
“C'mon, weird alternate universe sis, it can't be _that_ bad,” he murmurs into her ear, stroking the back of her head the exact same way her brother used to.  
  
“Hey, d'you want some of Wendy's pot? I mean the other Wendy, obviously. She's at the mall with her friends. She says it helps her concentrate or whatever, but maybe don't mix it with the universe-hopping?”  
  
He talks faster than her Pietro and his mind is even more of a dizzying blur of racing thoughts, so she stops trying to read him after a couple of minutes. It's considerably harder to tear herself away from the familiar scent of his skin, out of the arms which fit around her body just right.

 

* * *

  
  
She's stuck under the ruins of their building, her eyes and mouth dry and burning, full of concrete dust. Her brother is lying dead in her arms, slack-jawed and glassy-eyed, frozen at age ten.  
  
She presses her cracked lips to his cool forehead and holds him until she feels the rubble start to give.

 

* * *

  
  
In one world she's an only child, superpowerless and unremarkable.

She wonders if she ate him in the womb.

She's always suspected he was the best part of her.

 

* * *

  
  
Worlds which are too similar to her own make her head ache. She doesn't like them because the longer she sticks around, the harder she finds it to recall where she actually belongs.  
  
She can't stay in one place for too long; it would be too dangerous and selfish to boot.  
  
Besides, the worlds which are the same as her own with the exception of his survival make her want to scream her throat bloody.

 

* * *

  
  
“That's quite the youthful look on you, sister. Did you do something with your hair?”  
  
He's a lot older in this world but his accent is wonderfully, achingly familiar, and so is the vaguely amused look he's giving her.  
  
“You _died_ ,” she blurts, her breath hitching in her chest. “You _died_ and you left me _alone_ and I _hate_ you. _Fuck you_.”  
  
Moving into his arms is like coming home; it always is.  
  
“Maybe it's better that way,” he tells her, brutally honest yet not entirely unkind. “Trust me, he would have destroyed worlds for you. If there's one thing I know, it's that you never needed me half as much as I need you.”

 

* * *

  
  
In this reality— _her_ reality, mostly—Wanda has a brother for another two hours or so. She's been here countless times before.  
  
“You are my _world_ ,” she tells him, kissing both of his cheeks. “Don't you dare forget that.”  
  
She feels him feel _shock—confusion—pleasure—love—doubt—determination_.  
  
“You're so weird,” he says, his grip on her hands almost painful. “The _world_ is your world, Wanda. Now let's go make sure it keeps on turning.”


End file.
